


The Birthday Gift

by iPhone



Series: Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca receives a sex doll as a joke for her birthday.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: Prompt Fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007427
Comments: 40
Kudos: 176





	The Birthday Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for violence against sex dolls. This was based on a prompt that was sent to me on [Tumblr](https://darby-carter.tumblr.com/): 
> 
> _Prompt: Stacie gifts Beca with a sex doll as a prank and dares her to use it. Beca jokes that the doll looks like her very hot dancer ex-gf. Chloe blows her top, dismembers the doll, and confesses her love for Bec. Smut follows of course._
> 
> I took some liberties! Hope that's okay! This is pure crack and I apologize for any errors and generally how bad it is LOL.

She blames Stacie.

Every year, she tells Stacie (and subsequently, every other Bella) to _stop_ sending her gag gifts because they always end up backfiring or malfunctioning in some way. She can list a whole host of horrible things that have happened with the obnoxious gifts that seem to amuse her wonderful friends more than her.

Notably, singing telegrams—or rather, an extremely excited group of singers who had been sent _directly_ to her house and promptly tripped over themselves to try and harass her for photos. That had been Cynthia-Rose.

Or that time Fat Amy had sent her a whole host of inflatable microphones which ended up looking like a small mountain of vibrators when Beca had first opened the box, ultimately dropping them all over the ground in front of her apartment and receiving extremely judgmental glares from her passing neighbours.

Or that time, through a collective effort, the Bellas (minus Chloe, for reasons that will be immediately apparent) had sent Beca a shockingly high-quality cardboard cut-out of _Chloe_ herself. It would have perhaps been funny if Beca had been alone, but she had unfortunately been with Chloe herself who had flown out to Los Angeles to see her for her birthday.

Admittedly that gift wasn’t the _worst_. In fact, Beca will never admit it, but it ended up being quite the matchmaker (ironic that a _cut-out_ of Chloe had been their personal catalyst) that weekend. Chloe had probably blushed as much as Beca did upon first seeing it when she followed Beca to the front door.

The rest is history.

* * *

The short story is that Beca hadn’t been entirely prepared that weekend—or rather, she hadn’t _anticipated_ —kissing Chloe let alone all the other incredibly fun activities transpired, largely with Beca on her back, hands tangled in Chloe’s hair and an aching need between her legs.

The short story is pretty great. The long story is even better with all the wonderful, steamy details.

But for Beca, there is no story better than the one she gets to experience right now, with Chloe by her side like she knows they were meant to be.

...Even if it kind of took her a ridiculously long time to figure out, plus the help of their nosy, crazy friends.

* * *

But to return to _why_ Beca blames Stacie at all—

The day actually starts off kind of _normal_. Beca doesn’t have to go into the studio, she gets to wake up late, wrapped up in her favorite comforter and Chloe’s arms.

It’s the second birthday Beca has spent in Chloe’s arms, waking up to her kisses. So she kind of assumes that she’s about to have a really great day.

That is, until she drags her feet to the front door after hearing incessant knocking. Chloe laughs at Beca’s grumbling, pushing her out of the kitchen (not like Beca was really _helping_...unless the slow and steady progress she had been making on pulling Chloe’s shirt off is considered _helping_ ) as she bustles around, intent on throwing together some kind of brunch. Maybe even lunch since they stayed in bed well past appropriate breakfast hours.

Beca actually kind of forgets about the Bellas’ yearly tradition until she sees a deliveryperson in her doorway.

And the incredibly large box by his side. It’s more of a crate, really.

“Um—” Beca says.

“Beca Mitchell?”

Beca has half a mind to say no. “Yes,” she says warily, nearly exasperated as she reaches out to sign for the package.

Chloe rounds the corner, eyes widening in surprise when she sees the box. “Oh, is that—”

Beca peers at the packing slip that the deliveryperson drops off in her hand. “Stacie’s gift,” she sighs.

Chloe’s eyes brighten even more. “We _have_ to open it.” She nudges Beca’s shoulder. “Remember last year’s?”

“How could I forget,” Beca asks dryly.

It’s kind of a fond memory.

* * *

Upon struggling with pulling the surprisingly heavy box through the entryway and front hall (read: Beca pushes very gently while Chloe does most of the work), Beca finally gets the box open.

Her first instinct is to scream when she is greeted with soulless eyes—doll eyes—and her second instinct is to, well, scream, which she does, jumping back right into Chloe’s arms.

“Holy fuck,” Beca gasps. “I hate them so much. I hate Stacie so much. What the fuck is this?”

Chloe continues pulling at the plastic wrapping surrounding the second box in which the doll is encased. She shoots Beca a playful glance. “It’s a _sex doll_ , babe. Have you never seen one before?”

Beca crosses her arms. “Have _you_?”

“I like watching educational videos,” Chloe shrugs.

Beca pauses. “Educational—? About what? What could you possibly—hey, wait. Don’t try to distract me.” Chloe giggles. “Chloe! They literally sent us a _sex_ doll!”

“They sent _you_ a sex doll,” Chloe corrects. She tilts her head, taking in the red hair, the casual shorts and t-shirt, and the general make-up of the doll itself. “I think it—”

Beca takes a cautious step closer, finally stepping around Chloe’s side. “Hey, she kind of reminds me of Marley.”

Chloe’s eyes whip towards Beca with lightning speed. Beca can almost _hear_ a bone crack somewhere. “Who?” Chloe asks, entirely too casually.

“Just this—” Beca swallows, suddenly taking in the intensity of Chloe’s eyes. “A...dancer who was with me on my last tour.”

She knows Chloe must remember her. Beca had never been anything more than friends with the people she went on tour with, but there had been the occasional flirtation that _might_ have gone somewhere. Chloe had been one of the first people to really notice and pick up on those behaviours one time while she had been hanging with Beca backstage.

Beca hadn’t realized it was jealousy until well, much, much later. Like a literal year later when Chloe was suddenly kissing her in her living room.

“I remember,” Chloe finally says.

“Oh,” Beca says. She tilts her head. “Well, she kind of—”

“It’s a sex doll,” Chloe says shortly.

Beca laughs. “You were all over her earlier, what’s going on?” Beca realizes it is the entirely wrong thing to say when Chloe tenses up next to her. “I—wait—”

“Well, let’s get her out of there then,” Chloe says shortly, moving to fully pull the offending sex doll from the box.

Beca is alarmed. “Why? Let’s just leave her in there.”

“I mean, if you think she looks like…” Chloe trails off, shrugging nonchalantly, but Beca recognizes the tension in her shoulders. “Might as well take her out to really get a look at her.”

_Jesus Christ._

Beca closes her eyes.

She _loves_ Chloe, she really does—the whole being in love thing and all—but Chloe’s short fuse and disposition to immediately assume the worst things possible sometimes grinds on Beca's emotions in an annoying way. Annoyingly cute, is how Beca would describe it. Except when it rears its head as something that makes Beca want to pull her own hair out. This part of Chloe's personality is something that clashes spectacularly with Beca’s own short fuse, but they’ve made it work so far and their friendship even prior to their romantic relationship has survived far worse.

Beca refuses to _fight_ over a sex doll. Christ.

By the time they maneuver the doll out of the box, they find a typed note from Stacie with an embarrassing amount of emojis and a heavy-handed implication that she thinks Beca and Chloe need some help spicing up their sex life. It is quite frankly offensive that Stacie thinks Beca needs any help in the bedroom department.

Beca is still grumbling about the note and considering where she can shred it and dispose of it when Chloe pushes the doll onto the couch. Beca watches her with a small measure of amusement, enjoying the way Chloe crosses her arms, literally sizing up an inanimate sex doll.

She kind of wants to comment that Chloe would totally win in a fight against the doll—or something equally dumb and lighthearted, but there is something about Chloe’s stance that is revitalizing Beca’s previous appetite. One that had nothing to do with breakfast or any kind of literal food.

“Chloe,” she begins.

Chloe sighs, heavily, like she is immensely burdened by the weight of her own thoughts. “Beca, this is obviously supposed to be me.”

Beyond the burden in Chloe’s voice, there is a certain, additional clipped tone to Chloe’s voice that Beca picks up on right away. It is a run-off from Chloe’s entire demeanor and ongoing attitude about this whole situation after Beca made that comment about her dancer. After dating Chloe for a year now and knowing her for much longer, Beca likes to think that she’s pretty good at picking up on these things. Like a good girlfriend and an even better friend.

“What’s wrong?” Beca asks immediately. “Talk to me, Chlo.”

“Like, it’s obviously supposed to be me,” Chloe repeats, brow furrowing.

“I mean—” Beca turns back to look at the sex doll, tilting her head. She moves to stand next to Chloe so they can both observe the object now occupying Beca’s couch.

Chloe frowns, poking her shoulder. “Stop staring so hard at it.”

Beca purposefully turns to look at the side of Chloe’s face, noting the flush on Chloe’s neck and cheeks. A slow, knowing smile creeps across Beca’s lips. She had known earlier, but it is even more apparent now. “Are you _jealous_?”

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” Chloe says in a tone that indicates she is in fact, _jelly_ , as Chloe herself would say. Beca _loves_ it.

“You are,” Beca goads. She _loves_ when Chloe is the one who gets flustered. “Oh, you’re a hundred percent jealous. Of a _sex_ doll.”

“It’s a dumb gift,” Chloe says, suddenly pushing Beca back against the couch. Beca collapses, trying not to smirk up at her girlfriend for fear that Chloe will want to teach her a lesson or something that she really would rather not hear about. “You really don’t think it looks like me?” Chloe asks, eyes blinking slowly and owlishly at Beca as she slowly sits on her lap.

Beca cuts a glance to the sex doll next to them, sitting almost too innocently. “I mean, it wasn’t the first thing I thought of,” Beca admits, jerking her attention back to Chloe as Chloe weaves her fingers through her hair.

“Right,” Chloe drawls, leaning down to nip at Beca’s jaw and neck. “But you think it looks like Marie—”

“—Marley,” Beca corrects before she can help herself.

Chloe’s grip tightens in her hair. Beca moans unwittingly, eyes slipping shut at the display of dominance Chloe is exerting over her. “Sorry,” she mumbles quickly. “Sorry—” she chases after Chloe’s lips, gasping out against Chloe’s mouth when Chloe’s hand comes up to grip her breast tightly through her shirt. “It was the hair—” Chloe hums against her throat. Beca struggles to correct herself. “Yours is so much nicer, baby,” she implores. “Please,” she whispers.

Chloe finally releases the hold she has on Beca’s hair and her chest and lifts her arms to pull off her shirt instead. Beca blinks at the expanse of skin on display, unable to help the smirk that really does spread across her face.

“You’re so hot,” she says as innocently as she can. “But you’re also so pretty.” Chloe stares down at her. “I love you?” Beca tries. Her eyes flick down to Chloe’s chest. “I promise you that I’m not looking at the sex doll.”

Chloe unhooks her bra, raising an eyebrow. “I hope so.”

They make out for a little while longer, Beca eagerly groping at Chloe's chest as they do so. She likes eliciting small sounds from Chloe—a groan, a grunt, a whimper—with each tug of a stiff, pebbled nipple. Chloe shifts ever so slightly, indicating that she wants to push Beca across the couch horizontally. Beca pulls away from the kiss quickly, when her foot kicks against an offending object.

She had forgotten about that damn doll. "Wait," she says quickly. "I'm not like...looking at it or anything but it's...it's touching my foot," Beca explains. Beca glances at the doll in question over Chloe's shoulder. “Maybe we should move it. Or like...go to bed—” Beca watches the expressions change on Chloe’s face. “Or we can do whatever you want,” she says sweetly, trying to lean up to capture Chloe’s lips once more.

Chloe raises her eyebrow and in a flash, she is leaving Beca’s lap, leaving Beca feeling cold and empty as she feels usually whenever Chloe leaves their bed too early in the morning or when Chloe pulls away from a hug too soon. “Good idea,” Chloe drawls, picking the doll up bodily (Beca’s eyes zero in on the expanse of muscles rippling on Chloe’s back and arms as she does so) and proceeding to bring it over to her balcony.

Beca briefly protests Chloe’s state of near-nudity but she figures that nobody can really see into her apartment anyway. She watches in amazement as Chloe heaves the doll and throws—literally _throws_ —it past the sliding glass doors.

Beca winces as the head of the doll glances roughly off the railing and literally detaches from the body of the doll, rolling off down onto the quad in Beca’s apartment complex. Likely for some poor unsuspecting soul to find.

Chloe grins back at Beca who continues to watch her with a mildly awed, mildly terrified expression. She shuts the door calmly, moving back to straddle Beca on the couch. “What?” she asks lightly, suddenly in a much better mood.

“That wasn’t very feminist of you,” Beca comments, sliding her hands up Chloe’s thighs to the edge of the underwear she continues to wear. 

Chloe pouts. “Let me make it up to you, then.” She moves her hands back to Beca’s hair, pulling her in for a searing kiss, teeth and all. Beca moans softly, meeting Chloe kiss for kiss as Chloe’s hips slowly begin to grind down in her lap. 

It takes Beca a moment to respond. A moment to catch her breath. She blinks, looking up at Chloe with so much love in her chest that it makes her ache momentarily. "We should..." Her throat dries when Chloe shifts in her lap. "We should clean that up."

“Beca,” Chloe murmurs, pulling her back to the present; back to the present time with no sex dolls, no stupid gifts, and just Chloe in her arms on her damn birthday. "Tell me what you want me to do." She trails her lips up to Beca's ear, flicking her tongue out against the piercing she finds there.

"Um," Beca says articulately. Chloe kisses her again.

It’s a good birthday, all things considered.

“Where were we?” Chloe asks, breath hot against Beca’s lips.

Beca licks her lips, leaning up for another kiss before she finally responds, a bit more breathless than before. “Right here. Exactly where I want to be,” Beca mumbles, this time smiling so widely that it makes her cheeks hurt. Chloe giggles against her mouth, responding in kind as she slides her hands down Beca’s chest, grabbing at the material of her shirt.

Beca scrambles to help, tugging at her shirt and then pushing at the fabric of Chloe's underwear. Chloe sighs into her mouth and lifts herself momentarily to help pull her underwear down. As she does so, however, she slides off Beca's lap to kneel at her feet and pull Beca's shorts down her legs. Beca bites her lip, eyes drawn to how swollen Chloe's lips are. She whimpers when Chloe spreads her knees, pulling at her calves so Beca slides down couch just a little bit more.

"Wait, I want to—" Beca grunts, a small high-pitched sound, when Chloe's lips kiss a messy trail up her inner thigh towards her dripping center before Beca feels Chloe's lips wrap around her clit without much preamble. Her hand flies down to wrap in Chloe's hair, keeping her in place. She hisses, long and low when Chloe continues to relentlessly kiss and suck at the wet flesh between her legs.

Her cunt aches, already desperate for Chloe all over again. She's so fucking easy. Beca likes to think they both are.

Chloe glances up at her, momentarily stopping her ministrations. "Yes?" She smiles then, lips and chin shiny—fucking _shiny_ —with Beca's wetness. 

Beca groans, her chin dropping down so she can meet Chloe's gaze head-on. "Don't stop," she pleads. "Please, Chlo." 

Chloe hums, fingers pressing more firmly into Beca's thighs. "Watch me," she commands softly. "Eyes on me, Bec. Or I'll stop." 

Beca obeys, knowing exactly why Chloe is asking this of her, but she is helpless to do anything more than give in, especially when Chloe makes it feel so fucking _good_.

"You're so hot when you're jealous," Beca comments in a strangled voice. It's a jab and she knows it, but she loves the fire she can practically _feel_ coursing through Chloe's veins. It crackles in the air between them, manifesting in the sharp look Chloe gives her, even as her tongue slices through the growing need. She clenches wantonly around nothing, really, as Chloe's tongue quickly darts up to flick at her neglected clit. She tugs her lower lip between her teeth when Chloe's eyes flash up at her dangerously. 

"Nothing to be jealous of," Chloe says in an entirely too-cheerful tone as she brings her fingers to the mix, expertly dipping into Beca with ease and familiarity.

Beca thinks of the poor beheaded doll on her balcony.

She supposes that's true. It was never a competition anyway.

* * *

Beca decides she will send a thank you note to Stacie this time. Just this once.

* * *


End file.
